


Maybe

by jo_zabby



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Episode: s05e10 Abandon All Hope..., F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-15 06:12:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1294399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jo_zabby/pseuds/jo_zabby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their first kiss had been their last, and Jo was determined to change that. Maybe Dean wouldn't have to live without Jo after all. (AU set after season 5's "Abandon All Hope")</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is set right after season 5's "Abandon All Hope" and contains spoilers for that episode. Read at your own risk!  
> 

Dean watched as the picture was engulfed in flames, his eyes focusing on Jo.

His Jo. 

Dean’s mind immediately flashed back to his final moments with her. He had never told Jo how he felt; Dean planned to about a million times and in a million different ways, but never found the courage to actually speak the words aloud. With one kiss, Dean had tried to tell Jo how important she was to him, how a day didn't go by where he didn't think of her, how he’d fallen in love with her the moment she’d pressed that rifle against his back in the Roadhouse all those years ago… 

Dean’s eyes welled with tears as he watched Jo’s face finally turn to ashes. He knew he had to make an escape, so he cleared his throat awkwardly, making some lame excuse in a desperate attempt to flee the room. He was careful not to make eye contact with Sam or Bobby as he left, but Dean could feel the pity in their eyes as he walked slowly down the hallway and out onto the front porch.

Dean walked calmly down the steps, but broke into a run the second his feet hit the earth. He didn’t know where he was running to, exactly; he just knew he needed to put as much distance as he could between himself and the real world-the world without Jo.

How the hell was he going to live without her?

Dean ran as fast as his legs would carry him and only stopped when he tripped on a stray tire. He caught himself on a rusty old Volkswagen Rabbit on the far side of Bobby’s junkyard; he didn’t know why, but something about the way the full moon glistened perfectly on the windshield filled Dean with rage. Picking up a discarded pipe lying at the base of the car, Dean beat the car relentlessly: denting the doors, busting the headlights, crushing the hood, and basically destroying the helpless little car in front of him.  
With each blow, Dean grew angrier and angrier. “Why the hell did you take her?” he shouted. “You stupid sons of bitches, you had no right! NO RIGHT!” He hollered every swear word and insult he knew at the top of his lungs as he smashed the pipe into the car. He only stopped when a shard from one of the side mirrors flew free and sliced across his bicep, managing to cut through three layers of clothes. Interestingly enough, Dean didn’t feel the pain. 

Maybe it was because he was so emotionally traumatized that any physical damage to his body couldn’t compare to the pain he was feeling inside…. Or maybe it was just because his arms were numb from the cold.

Either way, the cut seemed to snap Dean out of his destructive streak. He sunk slowly to the ground, leaning his back against the car’s fender. He looked down at his trembling hands and finally broke down, letting the pent up tears stream freely down his face. Great hiccupping sobs racked Dean’s body and left him gasping for air.  
He’d never cried so hard in his entire life. 

Dean compared Jo’s death to the deaths of his parents and brother; not how they actually died, per se, but how he felt after they died. When his mom died, Dean felt like his whole world was spinning out of control, as young children often do when a loved one dies. When his dad died, Dean felt inhumanly angry, and when Sam died, he felt a horrible combination of the two. 

When Jo died, he felt something new, a whole new branch of pain that he had never experienced and that words couldn’t even begin to describe. Dean was shattered in a way that could never be repaired, not with Bobby’s alcohol or Sam’s sympathy. Not even Castiel’s angelic healing powers could ever make Dean feel entirely whole again.  
He was completely and utterly heartbroken.

Dean pulled his knees up to his chest and crossed his arms on top of them, resting his forehead on his forearms as the tears continued to pour down his face. He should’ve called her. He meant to call. If he would’ve just called maybe it wouldn’t have ended this way… Dean sat with his phone every night, Jo’s number already dialed and his thumb hovering over the call button. He thought that by not calling he was protecting her…

He should’ve just called.

Dean was snapped out of his blame-filled reverie by an eerily familiar voice speaking behind him. “Must say, I never pictured you as a crier.” He whipped his head around to find none other than Jo Harvelle leaning casually against the side of the car with a small smile on her face. Dean felt like all the air had been knocked out of his lungs as he stared, dumbstruck, at the woman in front of him. He scrambled to his feet, watching while the Jo-like being stared at the car, inspecting the damage. “What the hell did you do to this poor thing?” 

“Uh, no offense, but didn’t you just die?” Dean asked carefully, his hand moving to the knife at his hip. His eyes combed over the creature’s body; it looked just like Jo. Dean watched as she ran her hand over a particularly large dent in one of the car’s doors. The moonlight illuminated her clear pale skin and glistened on her golden curls; she was even more beautiful than Dean remembered. Every one of her movements had a haunting familiarity that pierced Dean with sadness. How many times had he seen her walking around the bar in the same way she was circling the car? How often had she paused with her hands on her hips to roll her big brown eyes at him like she was doing now? The thing was definitely Jo, but Dean didn’t trust it.

“Believe me, Dean, I’m not here to kill you,” she said, looking into Dean’s wary eyes. Jo gave an exaggerated sigh as she walked towards him with her arm outstretched. “Go ahead, test me.” She sounded almost bored. Dean poured salt and holy water on her forearm from the flasks in his pocket, and gave Jo a small cut with the demon knife. He stared at her incredulously and Jo just arched her eyebrows. “I told you it was me, halfwit,” she said, suppressing a smile. 

Wordlessly, Dean grabbed Jo and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms securely around her waist. Jo grinned and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him as tightly as she could. “Oh god, Jo,” Dean whispered into her hair, feeling tears flood his eyes once more. The two stood like that for a minute, just holding each other, neither one wanting to be the first to let go.

Surprisingly, it was Dean who pulled back first. He put his hands on either side of her face and smiled, his watery green eyes meeting hers. “Have you gone soft, Dean-o?” Jo asked with a laugh, wiping away the lone tear sliding down Dean’s cheek. The two broke apart and crawled onto the hood of the Rabbit, leaning against the better looking half of the windshield. 

Dean looked over at the radiant woman next to him; she seemed healthy, happy, and alive, the exact opposite of how she’d looked the last time he’d seen her. Part of her shirt had ridden up when she clambered onto the hood of the car, revealing the soft skin of her side, the same side that had been shredded by the hellhound. There was no blood, no gash-not even a scar from the injury that had ended her life. Jo pushed her hair out of her face and caught Dean staring at her. “What?” she asked. 

Dean pointed to her side. “You’re okay.”

She laughed, a real laugh, and the sweet sound filled Dean with something suspiciously close to happiness. “Yeah, unlike you.” She gestured to the cut on Dean’s arm. “Seriously Dean, I’m not even gone a full day and you can’t take care of yourself?” she scolded. She tugged on Dean’s sleeve and he peeled off a few layers until he was just in his t-shirt. Jo pulled his arm closer, inspecting the still bleeding wound. “Well, it’s not pretty, but I don’t think you’ll need stitches. Can I see your knife?” Dean handed it over and Jo used it to cut a strip from her tank top. He recognized it as the one she’d been wearing when they first met.

“No offense, but what are you?” Dean asked, watching as she tied the black fabric tightly against his arm.

Jo pretended to look hurt. “Oh, that hurts, Dean,” she said, tying the last knot in his makeshift bandage. Dean looked at her seriously and Jo shrugged as she tossed his coats back. “Honestly, I have no idea. I mean, I feel normal, but I’m not alive. I can’t be, right?” Dean nodded solemnly; part of him had hoped that Jo was back, like really back, but Dean knew that would've been too good to be true. He slid his arms back into the sleeves of his many jackets and looked over at Jo, trying unsuccessfully to hide the disappointment in his eyes.

“Hey, don’t be so negative; you've got me now,” Jo said with a smirk. “And I’m not going anywhere.” She snuggled closer to him, resting her head on the crook of Dean’s shoulder. He automatically put his arm around her, holding Jo close once again and loving the feeling of her curled up beside him. It felt as though Jo belonged there in his arms.  
Maybe that meant something.

The two sat quietly on the hood of the car, listening to the sound of the icy November wind rustling through the trees. Dean didn't know how long they’d been sitting there; it could've been minutes, hours, days… He’d lost track long ago. “Jo, I-I’m sorry,” Dean started, finally breaking the silence. “This is my fault. If I would've just-” Jo sat up quickly, putting a slender hand over his mouth to silence whatever he was trying to say. He tried to push her away, but Jo kept her hand in place. 

“Shut up,” she said. Jo took her hand away from Dean’s mouth as his eyebrows knotted together in a frown. “I can take care of myself, Winchester. It was my choice to go back and save your ass.” Dean looked like he was about to say something else, but Jo cut him off again. “Dean, you carry way too much shit. The entire world doesn't rest on your shoulders.” Dean pressed his lips together and looked down at the rusty car beneath them.

“Hey,” Jo said in a softer tone, lifting his face up to meet hers, “you think you’re the only one who can sacrifice yourself for someone else. If I could do that night all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing.” She lifted one hand and rested it against the side of Dean’s face. He closed his eyes and leaned into her hand, feeling a little of the guilt he was carrying drift away.

Dean opened his eyes and he was struck again by Jo’s beauty. “I love you,” he said breathlessly.

Jo smiled sadly. “I know.” 

Dean kissed her then; he breached the gap between them and kissed her with all the passion he could muster. The two melded together, never parting for a second. Eventually the couple stopped, just resting their foreheads together. Jo sighed and pulled away, biting her lip with regret. “I need to go.” She got up from the car slowly, followed closely by Dean.  
“Will I ever see you again?” he croaked desperately.

“Of course, you’re not getting rid of me that easy,” Jo teased with a wink. “You should fix up that car, though” she added gesturing to the Rabbit. “It’s cute and really didn’t deserve to be beaten up like that.” Dean glanced down at the car, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Jo turned, as if to leave, but turned right back around when she heard Dean’s voice. “Hey Jo, thanks,” he said, his voice rough with emotion, “for everything.”

Jo smiled. “Anytime, sunshine. Oh, and by the way,” she added before leaning in close to whisper “I love you too.” She grinned at Dean’s shocked expression and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before lifting her hand up and sliding his eyelids closed.

Dean opened his eyes a second later to find himself sitting on the ground, leaning against the VW Rabbit once again. He rubbed his face. That had been one hell of a dream. He must’ve sat down after destroying the car and dozed off; he hadn’t exactly gotten very much sleep as of late. Dean glanced forlornly at the spot on the car where Jo had been sitting only minutes before and felt more alone than ever. She had felt so…real when she was resting in his arms. 

But it was just a dream.

Dean shook his head to clear his mind. He stretched his stiff arms and felt the cloth still knotted snugly around his bicep. He frowned as he looked closer. Yes, that was definitely the same fabric that Jo had tied around his cut in his dream. Dean looked around, finding himself totally alone. If he didn’t tie that bandage, who did? Dean felt a smile slowly creep over his face as he let himself think about the dream. She said he’d see her again; she said she wasn’t going anywhere…

Maybe he wouldn’t have to live without her after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry it took me over a month to write this (yikes!) and I promise I will update more often. I had some family stuff going on these past few weeks, but the majority of that is cleared up now, so I can work more on writing! I've got some ideas, so hopefully you guys will like them and this story will actually work out! 
> 
> xoxo Zabby
> 
> For Lucy

Jo had always liked the dark. She knew she shouldn’t, her father had taught her that ages ago, but there was something about the pitch blackness that comforted her, made her feel warm and safe no matter where she was. 

Black was constant. This place, however, was not. 

This blackness was something completely different from the color that had comforted Jo as a child; it enveloped her into its enormous, suffocating arms and threatened to swallow her whole. 

Jo knew she’d died, but she had never heard of any afterlife like this.

Jo looked around, trying to get a grip on her surroundings and stifle the paralyzing fear that had taken over her body. She started with the simple things. She was lying on the floor; it was cold and hard, maybe concrete. Jo took a deep breath and told the fearful part of her brain to shut up as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. Jo couldn’t see more than a foot in front of her face and what she did see was pitch blackness. Briefly afraid that she’d gone blind, Jo held one hand close to her face, relieved when she saw the faint outline of her hand. Wherever she was, Jo had both her vision and her body (although neither of them were doing her much good at the moment) and that comforted her. Jo stood up then, hoping that she could see more from a higher viewpoint.

She couldn’t.

Swallowing the panic that had risen in her throat, Jo decided to explore, because, even in her most terrified state, Jo Harvelle couldn’t bear standing around waiting to be rescued. As she staggered around with her arms stuck straight out in front of her, Jo tried to determine her location. This was definitely not heaven; heaven wouldn’t be this dark, or terrifying. Purgatory? Jo didn’t think so. Purgatory would probably be a lot more violent than this. Hell? She froze; hell was definitely a possibility. 

Jo’s eyes filled with tears and she bit her lip harshly, trying to stop herself from breaking down. The tears poured down her face anyway and she bit down harder on her lip. The metallic taste of her own blood soon filled Jo’s mouth. Shit. She explored her lip carefully with her tongue, wincing slightly when it stung. Jo sighed; oh well, at least she knew she was human.

Taking what seemed like her millionth deep breath, Jo resumed her shaky walk, forcing herself to stay calm and racking her brain for all the things she knew about hell. She’d done quite a bit of research once upon a time when a…friend was in hell. Jo exhaled sharply, trying to focus on the information instead of the person who’d been in hell, because if she did think about that person, she knew she’d start crying again.

After walking a few more steps, Jo spotted a faint light that grew larger with every step she took. She broke into a run and soon found herself in a sort of hallway, which stretched as far as the eye could see and was filled with doors. Every door looked different, but each had a single window. Jo breathed a sigh of relief; this place definitely wasn’t hell. 

Jo approached the door nearest to her and leaned in close to look through the window. She jerked her head back almost immediately; inside the room, Jo saw a man strapped to a table while a different man skinned the other alive. She yanked on the doorknob, but found it locked. Jo pounded on the door and threw her weight against it, screaming and trying desperately to get the person to stop, but they were completely oblivious to the racket she was making.

Jo clapped a hand over her mouth, attempting to contain the scream that threatened to escape her lips. She scrunched her eyes shut and turned around, running a few steps down the hallway and leaning her back against the wall. She was shaking like a leaf and buried her face in her hands. 

Jo was totally and utterly powerless, and that was the worst feeling in the world.

After a minute or two, Jo decided to move on; she couldn’t help the man in the room and there was no use staying slumped against the wall. Gritting her teeth, Jo walked further down the hall and looked into the first window she saw. She could just make out what looked like a girl sitting at a kitchen table drawing a picture. The girl was small, maybe around five, and was talking animatedly to someone who was just out of Jo’s line of sight. She was grinning from ear to ear and Jo grew even more confused. Where the hell was she? A man was being tortured in one room and a little girl was drawing pictures in the next? 

Jo continued her walk down the hallway, more determined than ever to find out where she was. She looked into the window of every door she passed. Jo saw more scenes of torture, a man flying a kite, a few surgeries, a prison execution, a college graduation and every single door was locked tightly. No matter how much she yelled and banged on the doors, Jo was totally invisible to the strangers in the rooms. In fact, it wasn’t until forty-three doors and a dozen or so hours later that Jo saw something (or rather someone) she recognized: 

Dean.

He was running through what looked like Bobby’s junkyard. The window followed Dean as he weaved through the mangled cars. Jo craned her neck, looking around for whatever was chasing him, but saw nothing. He finally tripped on something (maybe a stray tire?) and fell against one of the smaller cars on the lot. Dean appeared to be on the verge of tears at first, but the look in his eyes quickly turned to anger as he picked up a fallen pipe and started hitting the car. He was yelling something that Jo couldn’t hear. She reached up a fist and banged on the glass, but Dean couldn’t hear it. 

As Dean’s swings grew increasingly angrier, Jo became more and more anxious, doing everything she could to draw his attention to her. Dean was obviously distressed and Jo knew how destructive Dean got when he was upset. True, Jo didn’t exactly know what he was upset about (she wasn’t even sure how long she’d been in the hallway), but she’d be damned if she didn’t do everything she could to try to stop Dean from hurting himself or someone else. Jo yanked on the doorknob, twisting and turning it so harshly she was sure it would break off at any second, but it never gave way. She focused her attention on the rest of the door, throwing herself at it and screaming Dean’s name at the top of her lungs. He never flinched, didn’t even acknowledge her. He just kept smashing that car.

Jo saw the piece of glass coming before Dean did. She froze, cringing as she watched the shard slash across his upper arm. Dean paused, glancing briefly at the wound before sinking to the ground. Jo could see the tears in his eyes and felt her heart shatter when she finally looked at his lips and read what they were saying. Jo had never been very good at reading lips, but she sure as hell knew her own name when she saw it, and Dean was saying it, over and over and over again.

Jo.

Jo felt like all the air had been knocked out of her lungs, like her legs had been turned to jelly and her head to pulp. She slumped against the door, tears welling in her eyes as the realization struck her that Dean was crying over her.

The strongest man in the world was breaking down because of her. 

“Dean,” she whispered, tracing his frail outline in the window pane, “I’m sorry; I’m so, so sorry.” Wet hot tears streamed down her face and, just as Jo was about to start having a full-on sob attack, a haunting voice spoke clearly behind her. 

“Try the doorknob,” it breathed. Jo whipped her head around, panicked eyes searching for the voice’s origin, but she was totally alone.  
Trying to ignore the shivers that ran down her spine, Jo turned back to the door, frowning at the voice’s suggestion. The doorknob was locked; she’d spent the last fifteen minutes trying to get it to work with absolutely no success. “I already did, asshole,” she muttered. But, just for the hell of it, Jo placed one hand on the doorknob and twisted it roughly. Much to her amazement, the door swung open and into Bobby’s junkyard.

The cool November air rushed against her face and Jo breathed it in hungrily as her eyes locked on Dean’s still-shaking form collapsed against the car. She stepped one foot through the door before glancing back towards the dark hallway. Jo was hesitant to go through; a small voice in her head told her that this was too easy, that this was all just an elaborate trap and she would end up in some boiling pit in the depths of hell, but, with one glance at Dean’s quivering form, Jo knew she wanted to take the risk. 

If there was one thing Jo couldn’t handle, it was seeing the people she loved in pain, and hell, she loved Dean. Jo had fallen in love with him the moment she’d pressed that rifle against his back in the Roadhouse all those years ago. Their first kiss was full of everything and nothing all at the same time; she could taste sorrow and heartbreak on his lips and that hurt her more than hellhounds ever could. With one kiss, Jo tried to tell Dean that it was okay, that she didn’t blame him, that meeting him was one of the best things that had ever happened to her… Their first kiss had been their last, and Jo was determined to change that.

She stepped cautiously into Dean’s world, letting the door swing shut behind her. Jo glanced over her shoulder and found that the door had completely vanished. She raised her eyebrows with vague surprise, but decided to investigate it later.

Right now, there was a sobbing Winchester to deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment!! Your comments make my day (even the negative ones :D )!!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Here’s just a short chapter. I’m going to try and upload another chapter later this week since this one is so short. Happy Easter!

Goodbyes are a bitch. 

In Jo’s opinion, goodbyes were designed by Satan himself to further torture innocent humans. Jo always made a point never to say goodbye to anyone, and nothing was ever going to change that. When the door appeared behind her and Dean, Jo knew she had to leave, even before the Voice whispered it in her ear. 

Leaving Dean was one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do, so she promised she’d be back, even though she had no way of knowing if it whether or not that was possible. She told him she loved him, something she’d been dying to say for years, and walked towards the door with tears shining in her eyes. She didn’t dare look back at Dean, worried her eyes would betray her promises. She had hoped that her promise would comfort him, but she now worried that she had only caused him pain. 

Hope was the most painful of all emotions. 

Jo stepped back into the hallway, hearing the door close behind her. When she turned around, she was greeted with a blank wall; the door had vanished. Jo stared at the wall dismally and realized that she had something more powerful than hope: determination. Nothing was going to keep her from Dean, not now, not ever. She would find his door again; she’d figure out how to get back into Dean’s world and she’d figure out how to stay. 

Jo had been a weakling today-she should’ve challenged the Voice, shown it that it couldn’t boss her around, but Jo had a feeling that she hadn’t heard the last of the voice. She’d have her chance. Jo didn’t care how long it took; she would find her way back to Dean… No matter what.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic EVER, so here's hoping it turned out okay!  
> This was originally intended to be a oneshot, but I'd be more than happy to continue it if people want me to.  
> Feel free to comment-I'd love to hear what y'all think!!
> 
> P.S. This is dedicated to my friend, Dorit, who introduced me to Supernatural. You're the best, girly!! Love you!


End file.
